“Yes, he’s one of the foreign spies,” interrupted Ransom. “You’d find it out, anyhow, if we didn’t tell you. They are after you, Tom Swift, and after your machines. They had vowed to get them by fair means or foul, for some of the European governments are desperate.”
“But we were only tools in their hands. So were Feldman and Harrison, but they knew more about the details. We were only helping them.”
“Then we must try to capture them,” decided Tom. “Ned, see if the chase had any results. I’ll look after these chaps—Koku and I.”
“Oh, we give in,” admitted Kurdy. “We know when we’ve had enough,” and he rubbed his head gently where the giant had banged it against that of his fellow-conspirator.
“Do you mean that you four came into this shop, at midnight, to damage the Mars?” asked Tom.
“That’s about it, Mr. Swift,” replied Kurdy rather shamefacedly. “We were to damage it beyond repair, set fire to the whole place, if need be, and, at the same time, take away certain vital parts.
“Harrison, Feldman, Ransom and I came in, thinking the coast was clear. But Koku must have seen us enter, or he suspected we were here, for he came in after us, and the fight began. We couldn’t stop him, and he did for us. I’m rather glad of it, too, for I never liked the work. It was only that they tempted me with a promise of big money.”
“Who tempted you?” demanded Tom.
“That Frenchman—La Foy, he calls himself, and some other foreigners in your shops.”
“Are there foreigners here?” cried Tom.
“Bless my chest protector!” cried Mr. Damon, who had come in and had been a silent listener to this. “Can it be possible?”
“That’s the case,” went on Kurdy. “A lot of the new men you took on are foreign spies from different European nations. They are trying to learn all they can about your plans, Mr. Swift!”
“Are they friendly among themselves?” asked Tom.
“No; each one is trying to get ahead of the other. So far the Frenchman seems to have had the best of it. But tonight his plan failed.”
“Tell me more about it,” urged Tom.
“That’s about all we know,” spoke Ransom. “We were only hired to do the rough work. Those higher up didn’t appear. Feldman was only a step above us.”
“Then my suspicions of him were justified,” thought Tom. “He evidently met La Foy in the woods to make plans. But Koku and Eradicate spoiled them.”
The two captives seemed willing enough to make a confession, but they did not know much. As they said, they were merely tools, acting for others. And events had happened just as they had said.
The four conspirators had managed, by means of a false key, and by disconnecting the burglar alarm, to enter the airship shed. They were about to proceed with their work of destruction when Koku came on the scene.
The giant’s appearance was due to accident. He acted as a sort of night watchman, making a tour of the buildings, but he entered the shed where the Mars was because, that day, he had left his knife in there, and wanted to get it. Only for that he would not have gone in. When he entered he surprised the four men.
Of course he attacked them at once, and they sprang at him. Then ensued a terrific fight. Eradicate, arising to doctor his mule, as he had said, heard the noise, and saw what was going on. He gave the alarm.
“Well, Ned, any luck?” asked Tom, as his chum came in.
“No, they got away, Tom. I had a lot of your men out helping me search the grounds, but it wasn’t of much use.”
“Particularly if you depended on some of my men,” said Tom bitterly.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean that the place is filled with spies, Ned! But we will sift them out in the morning. This has been a lucky night for me. It was touch and go. Now, then, Koku, take these fellows and lock them up somewhere until morning. Ned, you and I will remain on guard here the rest of the night.”
“I’m with you, Tom.”
“Will you be a bit easy on us, considering what we told you?” asked Kurdy.
“I’ll do the best I can,” said Tom, gently, making no promises.
The two captives were put in secure quarters, and the rest of the night passed quietly. During the fight in the airship shed some machinery and tools had been broken, but no great amount of damage was done. Tom and Ned passed the remaining hours of darkness there.
A further search was made in the morning for the two conspirators who had escaped, but no trace of them was found. Tom then realized why Feldman was so anxious to be placed in the aeroplane department—it was in order that he might have easier access to the Mars.
A technical charge was made against the two prisoners, sufficient to hold them for some time. Then Tom devoted a day to weeding out the suspected foreigners in his place. All the new men were discharged, though some protested against this action.
“Probably I am hitting some of the innocent in punishing those who, if they had the chance, would become guilty,” Tom said to his chum, “but it cannot be helped—I can’t afford to take any chances.”
The Mars was being put in shape for her first flight. The guns, fitted with the recoil shock absorbers, were mounted, and Lieutenant Marbury had returned to go aloft in the big aerial warship. He congratulated Tom on discovering at least one plot in time.
“But there may be more,” he warned the young inventor. “You are not done with them yet.”
The Mars was floated out of her hangar, and made ready for an ascent. Tom, Ned, Lieutenant Marbury, Mr. Damon, and several workmen were to be the first passengers. Tom was busy going over the various parts to see that nothing had been forgotten.
“Well, I guess we re ready,” he finally announced. “All aboard!”
“Bless my insurance policy!” exclaimed Mr. Damon. “Now that the time comes I almost wish I wasn’t going.”
“Nonsense!” exclaimed Tom. “You’re not going to back out at the last minute. All aboard! Cast off the ropes!” he cried to the assistants.
A moment later the Mars, the biggest airship Tom Swift had ever constructed, arose from the earth like some great bird, and soared aloft.
CHAPTER XV
IN DANGER
“Well, Tom, we’re moving!” cried Ned Newton, clapping his chum on the back, as he stood near him in the pilot-house. “We’re going up, old sport!”
“Of course we are,” replied Tom. “You didn’t think it wouldn’t go up, did you?”
“Well, I wasn’t quite sure,” Ned confessed. “You know you were so worried about—”
“Not about the ship sailing,” interrupted Tom. “It was only the effect the firing of the guns might have. But I think we have that taken care of.”
“Bless my pin cushion!” cried Mr. Damon, as he looked over the rail at the earth below. “We’re moving fast, Tom.”
“Yes, we can make a quicker ascent in this than in most aeroplanes,” Tom said, “for they have to go up in a slanting direction. But we can’t quite equal their lateral speed.”
“Just how fast do you think you can travel when you are in first-class shape?” asked Lieutenant Marbury, as he noted how the Mars was behaving on this, the first trip.
“Well, I set a limit of seventy-five miles an hour,” the young inventor replied, as he shifted various levers and handles, to change the speed of the mechanism. “But I’m afraid we won’t quite equal that with all our guns on board. But I’m safe in saying sixty, I think.”
“That will more than satisfy the government requirements,” the officer said. “But, of course, your craft will have to come up to expectations and requirements in the matter of armament.”
“I’ll give you every test you want,” declared Tom, with a smile. “And now we’ll see what the Mars can do when put to it.”
Up and up went the big dirigible aerial warship. Had you been fortunate enough to have seen her you would have observed a craft not unlike, in shape, the German Zeppelins. But it differed from tho
se war balloons in several important particulars.
Tom’s craft was about six hundred feet long, and the diameter of the gas bag, amidships, was sixty feet, slightly larger than the largest Zeppelin. Below the bag, which, as I have explained, was made up of a number of gas-tight compartments, hung from wire cables three cabins. The forward one was a sort of pilot-house, containing various instruments for navigating the ship of the air, observation rooms, gauges for calculating firing ranges, and the steering apparatus.
Amidships, suspended below the great bag, were the living and sleeping quarters, where food was cooked and served and where those who operated the craft could spend their leisure time. Extra supplies were also stored there.
At the stern of the big bag was the motor-room, where gas was generated to fill the balloon compartments when necessary, where the gasoline and electrical apparatus were installed, and where the real motive power of the craft was located. Here, also, was carried the large quantity of gasoline and oil needed for a long voyage. The Mars could carry sufficient fuel to last for over a week, provided no accidents occurred.
There was also an arrangement in the motor compartment, so that the ship could be steered and operated from there. This was in case the forward pilot-house should be shot away by an enemy. And, also, in the motor compartment were the sleeping quarters for the crew.
All three suspended cabins were connected by a long covered runway, so that one could pass from the pilot-house to the motor-room and back again through the amidship cabin.
At the extreme end of the big bag were the various rudders and planes, designed to keep the craft on a level keel, automatically, and to enable it to make headway against a strong wind. The motive power consisted of three double-bladed wooden propellers, which could be operated together or independently. A powerful gasoline engine was the chief motive power, though there was an auxiliary storage battery, which would operate an electrical motor and send the ship along for more than twenty-four hours in case of accident to the gasoline engine.
There were many other pieces of apparatus aboard, some not completely installed, the uses of which I shall mention from time to time, as the story progresses. The gas-generating machine was of importance, for there would be a leakage and shrinking of the vapor from the big bag, and some means must be provided for replenishing it.
“You don’t seem to have forgotten anything, Tom,” said Ned admiringly, as they soared upward.
“We can tell better after we’ve flown about a bit,” observed the young inventor, with a smile. “I expect we shall have to make quite a number of changes.”
“Are you going far?” asked Mr. Damon.
“Why, you’re not frightened, are you?” inquired Tom. “You have been up in airships with me before.”
“Oh, no, I’m not frightened!” exclaimed the odd man. “Bless my suspenders, no! But I promised my wife I’d be back this evening, and...”
“We’ll sail over toward Waterford,” broke in Tom, “and I’ll drop you down in your front yard.”
“No, don’t do that! Don’t! I beg of you!” cried Mr. Damon. “You see—er—Tom, my wife doesn’t like me to make these trips. Of course, I understand there is no danger, and I like them. But it’s just as well not to make her worry-you understand!”
“Oh, all right,” replied Tom, with a laugh. “Well, we’re not going far on this trip. What I want to do, most of all, is to test the guns, and see if the recoil check will work as well when we are aloft as it did down on the ground. You know a balloon isn’t a very stable base for a gun, even one of light caliber.”
“No, it certainly is not,” agreed Lieutenant Marbury, “and I am interested in seeing how you will overcome the recoil.”
“We’ll have a test soon,” announced Tom.
Meanwhile the Mars, having reached a considerable height, being up so far, in fact, that the village of Shopton could scarcely be distinguished, Tom set the signal that told the engine-room force to start the propellers. This would send them ahead.
Some of Tom’s most trusted workmen formed the operating crew, the young inventor taking charge of the pilot-house himself.
“Well she seems to run all right,” observed Lieutenant Marbury, as the big craft surged ahead just below a stratum of white, fleecy clouds.
“Yes, but not as fast as I’d like to see her go,” Tom replied. “Of course the machinery is new, and it will take some little time for it to wear down smooth. I’ll speed her up a little now.”
They had been running for perhaps ten minutes when Tom shoved over the hand of an indicator that communicated with the engine-room from the pilot-house. At once the Mars increased her speed.
“She can do it!” cried Ned.
“Bless my-hat! I should say so!” cried Mr. Damon, for he was standing outside the pilot-house just then, on the “bridge,” and the sudden increase of speed lifted his hat from his head.
“There you are—caught on the fly!” cried Ned, as he put up his hand just in time to catch the article in question.
“Thanks! Guess I’d better tie it fast,” remarked the odd man, putting his hat on tightly.
The aerial warship was put through several evolutions to test her stability, and to each one she responded well, earning the praise of the government officer. Up and down, to one side and the other, around in big circles, and even reversing, Tom sent his craft with a true hand and eye. In a speed test fifty-five miles was registered against a slight wind, and the young inventor said he knew he could do better than that as soon as some of the machinery was running more smoothly.
“And now suppose we get ready for the gun tests,” suggested Tom, when they had been running for about an hour.
“That’s what I’m mostly interested in,” said Lieutenant Marbury. “It’s easy enough to get several good types of dirigible balloons, but few of them will stand having a gun fired from them, to say nothing of several guns.”
“Well, I’m not making any rash promises,” Tom went on, “but I think we can turn the trick.”
The armament of the Mars was located around the center cabin. There were two large guns, fore and aft, throwing a four-inch projectile, and two smaller calibered quick-firers on either beam. The guns were mounted on pedestals that enabled the weapons to fire in almost any direction, save straight up, and of course the balloon bag being above them prevented this. However, there was an arrangement whereby a small automatic quick-firer could be sent up to a platform built on top of the gas envelope itself, and a man stationed there could shoot at a rival airship directly overhead.
But the main deck guns could be elevated to an angle of nearly forty-five degrees, so they could take care of nearly any hostile aircraft that approached.
“But where are the bombs I heard you speaking of?” asked Ned, as they finished looking at the guns.
“Here they are,” spoke Tom, as he pointed to a space in the middle of the main cabin floor. He lifted a brass plate, and disclosed three holes, covered with a strong wire netting that could be removed. “The bombs will be dropped through those holes,” explained the young inventor, “being released by a magnetic control when the operator thinks he has reached a spot over the enemy’s city or fortification where the most damage will be done. I’ll show you how they work a little later. Now we’ll have a test of some of the guns.”
Tom called for some of his men to take charge of the steering and running of the Mars while he and Lieutenant Marbury prepared to fire the two larger weapons. This was to be one of the most important tests.
Service charges had been put in, though, of course, no projectiles would be used, since they were then flying over a large city not far from Shopton.
“We’ll have to wait until we get out over the ocean to give a complete test, with a bursting shell,” Tom said.
He and Lieutenant Marbury were beside a gun, and were about to fire it, when suddenly, from the stern of the ship, came a ripping, tearing sound, and, at the same time, confused shouts came from t
he crew’s quarters.
“What is it?” cried Tom.
“One of the propellers!” was the answer. “It’s split, and has torn a big hole in the gas bag!”
“Bless my overshoes!” cried Mr. Damon. “We’re going down!”
All on board the Mars became aware of a sudden sinking sensation.
CHAPTER XVI
TOM IS WORRIED
“Steady, all!” came in even tones from Tom Swift. Not for an instant had he lost his composure. For it was an accident, that much was certain, and one that might endanger the lives of all on board.
Above the noise of the machinery in the motor room could be heard the thrashing and banging of the broken or loose propeller-blade. Just what its condition was, could not be told, as a bulge of the gas bag hid it from the view of those gathered about the gun, which was about to be fired when the alarm was given.
“We’re sinking!” cried Mr. Damon. “We’re going down, Tom!”
“That’s nothing,” was the cool answer. “It is only for a moment. Only a few of the gas compartments can be torn. There will soon enough additional gas in the others to lift us again.”
And so it proved. The moment the pressure of the lifting gas in the big oiled silk and aluminum container was lowered, it started the generating machine, and enough extra gas was pumped into the uninjured compartments to compensate for the loss.
“We’re not falling so fast now,” observed Ned.
“No, and we’ll soon stop falling altogether,” calmly declared Tom. “Too bad this accident had to happen, though.”
“It might have been much worse, my boy!” exclaimed the lieutenant. “That’s a great arrangement of yours—the automatic gas machine.”
“It’s on the same principle as the air brakes of a trolley car,” explained Tom, when a look at the indicators showed that the Mars had ceased falling and remained stationary in the air. Tom had also sent a signal to the engine-room to shut off the power, so that the two undamaged propellers, as well as the broken one, ceased revolving.
“In a trolley car, you see,” Tom went on, when the excitement had calmed down, “as soon as the air pressure in the tanks gets below a certain point, caused by using the air for a number of applications of the brakes, it lets a magnetized bar fall, and this establishes an electrical connection, starting the air pump. The pump forces more air into the tanks until the pressure is enough to throw the pump switch out of connection, when the pump stops. I use the same thing here.”
The Tom Swift Megapack Page 225
